Winter Letters
by melon.is.love
Summary: Correspondence between Gracia and Maes Hughes after his death.
1. To Maes

**Title: **Winter Letters  
**Summary:** Correspondence between Gracia and Maes Hughes after his death.

**CH1: To Maes...**

Dear Maes,

It hurts to even see your name written on this blank sheet of paper. You promised to be with me forever! You swore it... and you broke it. I don't think I can forgive you for this heartwrenching sin. Dearest, I asked you to be careful. Couldn't you at least honor that wish? I hate you. I hate you with every fiber of my being, with a deep passion.

Even still, though you're away from my side, I'll never find another man. Our relationship was unique, was deep, was irreplaceable. I will never find the same bond with someone else. We were meant for each other, weren't we? The instant we met... do you remember that moment? Our eyes met and sparks exploded. I knew you were the one. You completed me. I can't begin to describe the rolling emotions, the joy and the pain, the pure, undulating love.

I love you, Maes. I love you so much that the pain is unbearable. I'd discard the world to be with you for a second. I'd abandon my hopes and dreams to spend ten more minutes with you. Maes... I still can't accept the fact that... you're gone.

**Gone.**

I imagined my life with you- having a child, watching her mature, watching ourselves grow old, dying together.

_Gone._ All that is gone.

I miss you. The house is so cold and barren without your ringing laughter to fill it. I still wake up early each morning to make you breakfast, before I realize that you're not here to eat it. You loved blueberry pancakes. I unconsciously made a huge batch... thankfully, Ed Elric was around. He and his brother, Al, came by. I was grateful for their cheery company, and for Ed's huge appetite. He finished the pancakes and asked for more.

Elysia still doesn't understand what happened. She asks me, "Where's papa? When is he coming back?" The concept of eternity is too extreme for a young toddler to accept. She doesn't know what 'forever' means. I'm afraid, Maes. I'm afraid of being a bad mother. When you were around, I could always fall back on you. Now that you're gone, I have to stand strong, no matter the circumstances or events. I was never as capable as you.

The idea of being a single mother is frightening. The future seems much bleaker. Who will I turn to when tides turn rough?

Remember how much Elysia adored you? She followed you around, rolling on her little pink tricycle. She insisted on accompanying you to headquarters so much that we finally relented. I wondered how things would work out, but I didn't worry. You were with her, and I knew that you wouldn't let anything happen to our little girl. You came home, piggy-backing a sleeping Elysia, holding on to the tricycle with one hand.

"She made it all the way to headquarters," you had said proudly, handing our daughter to me, "Even though she was tired, she wouldn't say a word. She wouldn't get off the tricycle. Our Elysia's got spunk."

"And what happened there?" I had asked, kissing your cheek.

You had sighed and rubbed your aching shoulders. "I was called out for investigation. Scar was sighted in another part of the city. It was too dangerous for Elysia, so I left her at headquarters. She drew pictures on the official records."

"Oh, no!"

You had shrugged with a grin. "Doesn't matter. Now, maybe those uptight officials might loosen up while looking at our baby's beautiful drawings."

And you probably haven't forgotten the fated Mother's Day. You locked yourself in the kitchen for hours.

To tell you the truth, I was extremely distressed. The numerous bangs and booms erupting from the stove and oven entirely convinced me that you were going to burn the house down. Do you remember how much you were screaming? I wanted to knock down the door. You were cursing at the pot for being too hot, cursing at the pasta that fell into the fire, screaming at the utensils you swore were being stolen by little kitchen imps, and verbally abusing the boiling water that splattered onto your skin.

It would've been humorous if it weren't my kitchen and my husband under culinary attack.

The food came out delicious, though. You asked Roy to babysit Elysia for the night (I heard the Flame Alchemist nearly broke down in tears trying to figure out how to change her diapers, and had to call Lieutenant Hawkeye for help), and we spent a problem-free dinner together. The garlic bread was soggy with oil, and you somehow got the pasta to smell like cinnamon, but your effort made it taste ambrosial.

You were completely exhausted. I had never seen you that beat... and that relieved to see the bed. Thank you so much, Maes. That night rests in a peaceful corner of my mind, untouched by my other chaotic memories.

When I became sick the day after, you nursed me to health. I never mentioned that your cooking gave me food poisoning. It didn't seem important in the warm light of your love and sincerity.

I should've known that we would soon be separated. Our lives together were too perfect.

I now look at the empty bed, so vast and chilling without your filling presence. The shadows are longer; the darkness is heavier. I cry myself to sleep, despite your silent rebukes. I can hear your reproach through my sobs.

"Tears give you pimples!" You would probably say, "Don't show such weakness, Gracey-baby. You can do better than this. You're made of stronger stuff. Wipe those tears and give me one of your beautiful smiles."

Maes, give me time to grieve and think before I can smile again. I promise to be strong... for Elysia, for you. I'll join you soon, but not yet. It's not time yet.

Wait for me... promise me...

Eternally yours,  
Gracia.


	2. To Gracia

**Title: **Winter Letters

**Summary:** Correspondence between Gracia and Maes Hughes after his death.

**CH2: To Gracia...**

Dear Angel,

Yeah, I should've been more careful. I can almost feel the sting of your hand slapping my head for my foolishness. I was delving into more dangerous business than I revealed to you; I wanted to protect you from worrying about me. Please understand, I had to do this. In all truth, I'm deathly frightened for you. The information that I uncovered was very shocking... the Homunculi have a deeper grasp on our government than I originally suspected... the same government that you live under. Well, since I'm gone, there's no use to go after you. I trust that you'll be safe. I trust that Roy'll protect you and Elysia.

I've gone beyond the gate (someone should really redesign the gate. Elysia's scribbles are more beautiful than** that**), and I'll be waiting for you to join me. I won't tell you what's here; you have to find out for yourself. I'll tell you one thing: It ain't half bad.

I close my eyes and daydream about you, and my mind brings me to our wedding day.

It was May. Spring. There was a thirty percent chance of thundershowers in the afternoon (I was constantly checking on the weather), but the day came out fine. The sun shone brightly. A plethora of brightly splashed flowers decorated the frontyard of the church, welcoming all with their multicolored and cheerful faces. I felt bad for our guests with allergies, but that wasn't at the top of my priority list. Because of that stupid tradition where the bride and groom can't see each other before the ceremony, I was sitting in the church backyard with Roy and Havoc. You probably don't know about this - I doubt anyone told you - but I was losing my mind.

"Roy, I'm getting married, I'm getting married, I'm getting married, getting married, married - " I blathered on and on, only half aware of what I was saying. I took off my glasses for the occasion - the photographers said that the light reflected off of the lenses interfered with their pictures. So I was half blind, half aware, and scared half out of my wits.

"I** know**. Shut up."

My best man's apparent annoyance had no affect on my jittery nerves. "What if she doesn't like me? I know her parents don't like me; they think I'm a good-for-nothing, and you know, kids always take after their parents; what if she gets sick of me? What if she thinks my jokes are corny?"

"Stop thinking in 'what ifs' and conditionals, and start thinking about _now_. The present. You're getting married to the woman you love," Roy said gently, fixing my tie (I think he was trying to get me to stop moving around), "And you're lucky that you found someone."

"What if she doesn't love me?" I continued to whine.

"Sir," Havoc stepped into the conversation with a respectful cough, "I don't know if this is out of place for me to say, but... Miss Gracia can think for herself. She's an intelligent person. She knows what she's doing."

"She knows what she's getting into," Roy snorted, "Being married to you won't be a picnic."

"Hey!" I growled, "Waddya mean?"

"I mean that you're annoying and hard to deal with."

I knew that he was joking, but what if there was some truth behind his words? I immediately sombered. After a moment of silence, I couldn't help but ask, "Do you really think so?"

"No."

I sighed and stared down at my gloved hands. A nervous sweat had broken out and was coming through the white soft cloth of my gloves. Ew. "Havoc, give me a cig."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "You quit smoking a long time ago."

"So what?" I snapped and took the stick from Havoc.

"You quit for Gracia."

"She'll never know." I dismissed Roy's roll of eyes and lighted up my cigarette. I greedily sucked in the air... it felt good. I quickly calmed as I blew out smoke. "That's better..."

Roy sighed. "I've never seen you so worked up over a girl. I understand; this is the woman you're going to spend the rest of your life with. But don't be overexcited."

How could I not be overexcited? I was - and still am - head over heels in love with you. You're beautiful and sweet, caring and gentle, loving and kind... and a direct violation of all the requirements I had for my past girlfriends. I usually went for the party animals and drinkers, who laughed a bit too loud and swore a bit too much. I thought I liked those types of girls, but when our eyes met, I knew in an instant that you were someone special.

All my fears and doubts vanished when the huge oak double doors opened to reveal you as who you are: an angel. You were wearing your white satin dress, holding a bouquet of... I'm not sure what kinds of flowers... but you were stunning. You looked up, and our eyes met, and shivers ran down my spine, and I knew that you'd never voluntarily leave me. And I hope you knew that I felt the same way about you.

You complete me. You calmed my wild and impetuous nature. You changed me. As Roy mentioned, you were my motivation to quit smoking. You constantly told me how detrimental it was to my health. I was completely convinced that you were the one. I wanted to spend my life with you, to fall asleep by your side at night, to name our children together.

So we had Elysia. She is the living testimony to our undying love.

And she's a complete cutie pie.

I remember running out in the freezing snow to find a doctor when you were in labor. I hadn't panicked that much since our wedding. My feet were turning blue and the wind was whipping my face and throwing ice into my eyes, but I didn't care. The only thoughts that were running through my head was that my wife was undergoing tremendous pain, Ed and Al had no idea how to deliver a baby, and our precious child had suddenly decided that it was the right time to wiggle into the world. I fought against nature's anger and found the doctor's house, and forced him out into the cold before he reminded me that the fastest way back was by car.

I remember seeing her tiny, perfect body sleeping in your arms. Your warm and exhausted smile. The doctor's soft voice filled with relief: "Mr. Hughes, you have a daughter."

It was hard at first. Elysia cried all day and night. She had to be fed every two hours. Her diapers had to be changed every four hours. Baby's excretion was disgusting. But it was worth it, wasn't it? It was worth to see her chubby cheeks wrinkle in an excited smile, and her warm arms flail up at you, insisting to be held in your arms.

I was so proud of both of you. I remember the numerous times you woke up at night because of Elysia, and went over to console her. You had heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep, but you rarely complained.

Gracia, you're a good mother. Elysia'll become a fine woman under your guidance. I'm sorry I haven't been with you two long enough.

And remember that Mother's Day? Goodness, I had no idea cooking was that hard. I knocked over cinnamon into the pasta while reaching for plates. And be careful, love. There're kitchen imps living in our house. I swear - I completely swear upon the throwing knives I always have hidden up my sleeve - that I put the wooden spoon next to the sauce. I turned around to chop up the onions, and when I turned back, the spoon was gone! It was there! I know you don't believe me and that you laughed at me for such a "silly" thought, but I have eyes.

I know that the spoon was right there. I didn't touch it.

I know that they're hiding in the kitchen. Beware.

Keep the other spoons close to you.

After the dinner, I'm not sure what happened. I was so tired and on the verge of collapsing. I remember you helping me up the stairs to our room... and a sea of soft duck feathers... and an ocean of darkness. You told me the next morning that I snored like an elephant. I'm sorry you became sick after our dinner together - it would have been nice to do something on that day.

Sometimes I wonder if my food caused you to be sick... but... nah, there's no way... ...right?

At least my chicken noodle soup came out alright. Though... I found something that strangely looked like chicken bits and noodles in the backyard the next day. It looked as if it was thrown from our window... but... there's no way, right? You told me that it tasted great.

...Right?

I miss you. I feel so awkward in this strange new land without your reassuring presence. When I think back at my final moments, I feel that I could've done a million other things and survived. I wish I had more time to spend with you and Elysia.

We can't do anything about our current situation, except to wait. I hope you won't find someone new, though if you did, I'd understand. A long time ago, I heard a saying that said something like, "Let go of what you love. If it was meant to be, it will come back to you."

Love overcomes death.

I'll be waiting here for you.

Sincerely and forever yours,

Maes.

* * *

A/N: End. It was pretty short but... I hope you enjoyed it! 


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